Saturday, October 1, 2011

The Waiting Game

I've already described how I use this blog as a screening tool; any man that I meet who speaks English (and most that I meet on-line do) immediately receives this link. It allows me to weed out the ones who are afraid of my sort of alpha female. What it and every other screening tool cannot, of course, do, is screen for those who are sorely mistaken about themselves. Meaning I still get men who swear they are attracted to strong, smart women but then can't ever seem to follow through. The older I get, the more I up my estimate of the percentage of humans out there who are, indeed, sorely mistaken about themselves. But as I so optimistically concluded this spring, it's really not their fault. [After all, they haven't read Sex at Dawn (during my recent trip back to the U.S., I simply had to pick up another couple of copies to pass around).]

It's my job, then, to screen out the seriously deluded (see here for some more important tips). And I have to say, energy level is almost an infallible indicator. Think back, if you will, on all the times someone seemed to show interest in you and then things just didn't work out. That let's-meet-for-coffee date somehow never materialized or the person sort of dropped out of sight via Email or you had a date or two then never quite got back together. It's not necessarily that you were mistaken about an initial spark, it's just that one side or the other didn't provide sufficient oxygen or fuel for that spark to catch flame.

I get that a lot with Latino and Mediterranean men, particularly in Europe, which is the opposite of how things were in Latinamerica (super-charged energy firing constantly at me). In Spain, well, I'll never be bajita y morenita, which is really the only way a woman can be; women who are tall and fair like me might just as well be extraterrestrials. We're good for one date ("hey, guys, you'll never believe what I met, face-to-face"), but then it's just really best for the natives that our spaceships fly on to the next star system. On the other hand, we have Germany, where Latin men face such a glut of women dying to be with them that they, poor dears, have no incentive whatsoever to behave decently. And sadly, they just don't.

It's now time to introduce a brief walk-on in my blog's cast of characters. We'll call him Wheelchair Guy as I found him on Berlin's CL looking for just that, a wheelchair-bound woman. As this was one of the weirdest kinks I'd found yet (and I do like to collect kinks), I just had to write him. Turns out he's well attuned to the value of the older woman, as are so many of the younger men I seem to run into these days. But it would seem that he hasn't grasped that we're not exactly inclined to play the waiting game...

After energetically writing me long well-thought-out Emails for several weeks back in May, presumably as a prelude to meeting up in June in Berlin, Wheelchair Guy dropped out of sight for four months, including not answering two Email inquiries from me as to whether he'd lost interest. He just got back to Berlin after all this time, or so he says, but still can't seem to organize himself to see me. He's just so, well, you know, BUSYYYYYY. Uggghhh. There is no doubt in my mind that I'm much happier blogging the case of Wheelchair Guy here in the comfort of the Lair where I don't have to interact with anyone at all.

I asked my ex, who is always a font of odd bits of knowledge and can be counted on to spout a helpful statistic when a woman most needs it, what is up with this game of making people wait? It always seems like such a power trip to me (and sadly I think women may engage in it even more than men). His response: you have to consider that one quarter of women have been sexually abused or mistreated; reticence and indecision is perfectly understandable. Fine, but what's so many men's excuse? To which he replied, "they're not that into you", about which, of course, he's perfectly right.

I prefer to express it in terms of energy; when the energy's there, everything just flows. The first date quickly becomes a second and possibly a third and the energy's so good that you just do what, as the Spanish say, happens naturally between a man and a woman. The only problem here is that (sigh) good energy at my advanced age is so, so hard to find. I have to admit that it just occurred to this odd mind of mine to wonder where one might rent a wheelchair in Berlin. But of course I'm just not that desperate.

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My 'Ich Werde Ein Berliner' Test

You're Karl Lagerfeld

The computers determined that your ability to blend in wiz ze Germans is about the same as that of celebrity fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld. "Wait a minute" you say, "isn't he German? Woohoo! I did it, I am a proper German now!". Not so fast Auslander. Keep the champagne chilled for now. The truth is, you failed this personality test miserably by achieving the lowest possible score.
This is the detailed personality assessment for you and Karl:

• You were born in Hamburg, Germany, but moved to Paris when you were about 20, never looking back or getting homesick.

Now, as we learned before, it is a requirement for any German person to 1) love Hamburg unconditionally and 2) do blog and forum raids on the internet to try to shut up any Hamburg-critical voice. All German people are aspiring to move to Hamburg one day to live in what they believe to be "the most beautiful city in the world". Karl however has been overheard calling Hamburg boring, provincial, and is said to be not really keen on visiting the place unless someone pays him a lot of money.

• Even though you claim to be a creative person, nobody has ever seen you sporting messy hair, a scruffy beard, a fedora hat, plaids, Chucks, or oversized nerd glasses.

• You also never attended any indie punk rock concert of "upcoming" local bands, where you expressed your edginess by splashing around cheap beer in an ironic way and "going totally wild and crazy".

The bottom line of your test result is - you are still stuck on square one of the imaginary "Ich werde ein Berliner" board game. You'll have to work a lot harder from now on, or you may never blend in wiz ze Germans. Why not start by reading Ich werde ein Berliner all over again now? Preferably on an Apple-branded Laptop in a nearby "alternative" cafe.